Let The Dead Things Die

Two years ago, I bought a dusty typewriter from a street seller in South Bombay.

Not for writing — but because I had this romantic image in my head:

A room. A wooden desk. A glass of hot tea on a rainy day.

And the click clack of genius pouring out onto paper.

I imagined I’d write my book on it.

The one I never started.

The one I kept telling people I was “thinking about.”

The one that sat in my Google Docs titled Untitled Doc (6).

For months, that typewriter stared at me from across the room.

Mocking me.

Not because it wanted to be used …

But because I wanted to believe I was still the kind of person who’d use it.

Until one day, I sold it.

No farewell. No drama.

I just let it go.

And when I did — something strange happened.

Relief.

We talk a lot about chasing dreams.

But we rarely talk about letting them die.

Projects we outgrow.

Relationships that rot slowly in silence.

Jobs we secretly hate but feel guilty leaving.

Ideas that once lit us up — but now weigh us down.

The world says: “Don’t quit.”

But sometimes, quitting isn’t cowardice.

It’s closure.

Some things aren’t meant to be saved.

Some fires burn out for a reason.

And the hardest truth?

Not everything unfinished deserves to be finished.

Maybe you need this permission slip,

It’s okay to walk away.

To archive that business idea.

To end the friendship that only exists on birthdays.

To admit that the version of yourself you’re trying to resurrect … is already gone.

Let the dead things die.

Mourn if you must.

But don’t stand at the grave forever.

There’s life to be lived.

And it’s waiting on the other side of letting go.

Love,

Dhruv.